Distraction
by Spawn Guy
Summary: Just because he's the Ultimate life form dosen't mean he isn't alone. A tale of Shadow's true love.


**Distraction**

If I really owned any of these charecters, do you really think I would spend time wrighting a line of text that stated the oposite?

It wasn't that he was lonely, Shadow decided.

No, rule that out right now; he far preferred his own company. Perhaps he had made a few exceptions, extending his tolerance of certain individuals over the years, but he was what he was. A loner.

Tail's was intelligent, making up for that neurotic helium voice he had been cursed with at birth. Cream was innocent, not with out obvious flaws, but innocent. That was something to be as well preserved as a chaos emerald in this world. Omega was a soulless killing machine, it didn't try to act like it's opinions mattered, and there was the fact they were both weapons. Despite himself, the ultimate life form silently shared a kinship with the robot. One as sharp and metallic as Omega himself. And Rouge was…Rouge. Always some mercenary goal hidden under her bed. Or the echidna's. Not that Shadow actually cared whether the guardian and the thief were prepared to engage over anything other than the master emerald.

But at least he knew where he stood within the predatory nature of the batgirl's world.

By the same token, solitude had many ways of showing why it was preferable to the world out side his dark and crimson head. The Chaotix, Espio included, no matter how versed in the art of the modern detective, were possessed by mind boggling ineptitude and several possible and several definite mental health defects. Manly causing them in other people.

Knuckles, while one of a hand full of worthy opponents, was as gullible as he was stubborn, and admiral fighting skills would only protect him (and the unfortunate individuals in his vicinity) for so long before someone, quite possibly Shadow himself, shot him for the sake of it. Sonic's mouth moved at roughly the same speed as his overrated feet, and several times faster than his brains. Loosing your temper with the faker, Shadow had concluded, was pointless for the following reason: it would allow him to know he was gaining an advantage over you, and he probably wouldn't even realise that you were anyway. The violent feelings the faker would arise within him were easily dealt with by simply avoiding any pathway that took him along the eclipse cannons walk way when he was particularly irritated. Big was a lummox, but provided he stayed in his swamp with the rocks and moss and ungodly amounts of fish, there was no need to burn his primitive dwelling down and crucify his frog. And Amy…well, inspiring speeches aside, she certainly would _not _be the first individual Shadow would consider physical violence against for the mere sake of physical violence, if not the very preservation of his sanity.

Indeed, solitude and privacy was a lifestyle he enjoyed. For a certain value of enjoyment. He was still unsure as to whether or not he possessed emotions beyond grief and rage, but in all honesty did not truly care if he did or did not. He missed Maria, of course, but the entire Black Arms affair had taught him to let go and put as much effort into finding his future as he had his past.

Never the less, The ARK was not what it had been. G.U.N had treated it like a barn and, in one or two rather choice areas, a bathroom. The Black Arms siege had not helped. The outpost, as advanced as it ever was, had become a relic. Any and all signs of life outside of burn marks and battle scars had been removed decades ago, and it would chill blood in any other persons veins to behold the ancient and sparse conditions of the living quarters. Many long nights and days had been spent at the entrance to Maria's private quarters, and many more would before a decision was reached as to whether or not to enter.

The ice cold grip on the memories had been let go, it was the healthy thing to do. What really kept Shadow burning a hole in the door metal were the following;

(a) It was cold, although a creature designed to survive in inhospitable environments similar to the moon this wasn't one overly concerned with temperature.

(b) There was something that did not feel correct about disturbing something that had lain as a reminder of Maria for so long, even if he had attempted to move on in his own way. The past reminded you what the future was for.

( c) The sheets had been in there for fifty three years. Memories of a beloved friend were one thing. Bacteria was another. Who in God's name _knew_ what could be growing in the little microscopic kingdom that could be scuttling in there? What made the ultimate life form's skin crawl was not to be underestimated. Considering he wasn't entirely sure he was totally immune to anything viral. And was not overly enthusiastic to find out. Then again, to him enthusiasm was a ten letter word starting with "e".

Shadow was, ultimately, a creature of isolation and still nights (he liked to think of them as nights, it just went with the overall theme) of stargazing. The ARK was his. His fortress. His keepsake. It was also a floating monotonous rust bucket. Not that it actually rusted, he would have been suicidal to remain in the airless vacuum if this was the case. Special alloys hadn't lost their shine in fifty years and wouldn't start for a while. It was a shame dust accumulated as it did. So it was, in effect, a precious monotonous floating rust bucket.

Apparently, as with any mortal creature, he required distractions to take up his time. And, this particular part had come with shock as light as the beating of a butterflies wings, others could be used for such distractions. That was why he was mildly pleased to discover the computer AI functioned as a second player for Super Smash Bros.


End file.
